  The main point to be decided was the selection of the town in which the next exhibition should be made. Various places were named, their resources summed up, and the peculiarities of the inhabitants canvassed. None of them seemed to the assembled wisdom of the company to fill the bill. Handy apparently appeared to take slight interest in the deliberations, but his active brain, notwithstanding, was at work. He was considering the situation, and quietly letting his companions ventilate their views before offering his. At length the exchange of opinions reached the stage when the sage deemed it was proper to speak. "Eureka!" he exclaimed, "I have it." "Suffer us not to remain in ignorance," urged the comedian. "Do not dissemble—enlighten us." "Newport!" "Newport!" they all repeated in surprise. "Newport!" Handy replied calmly, and the company looked at each other and then turned their gaze on Handy. "He's off his base," said the dwarf. "Why, we wouldn't take in money enough to pay for the lights. Newport! Great CÆsar's ghost!" "We'll never get out of the place alive," volunteered the dog-man. Handy merely smiled as he listened to his companions' objections, but he was firm in his resolve to have his way. "Newport, my friends," began Handy, complacently, "is our mutton; and when I explain my reason for the selection I think you will concede the wisdom of my choice. Society, or the blue blood of the country, as it is regarded by some, make annual visits about this time to Newport, to enjoy themselves and to be amused and entertained. We can give them an entertainment such as they have never seen before, and possibly may never see again. However, you never can tell. Anything and everything in the way of novelty goes with them. It matters not what it may be so long as it is odd, new, or novel. Remember, we live in a changeable, hustling, ragtime age. Coon songs are almost as popular with the best of them as grand opera, and more readily appreciated. If we don't surprise and amuse them I shall be very much disappointed. A tent show in staid, fashionable old Newport is an unheard-of undertaking, and we will have the honor, and, I may add, the profit of inaugurating the fashion. There's the rub. The very novelty and the boldness of the undertaking cannot, in my humble judgment, fail to appeal to these pleasure-seekers. Of course, we can hardly expect them to invite us to remain for the rest of the season. But let that pass. That's another consideration. It is a one night only racket, and trust me we'll do business. When they will have the—the a—well, call it pleasure of listening to that strenuous band of ours on parade, it will be the talk of the town. Mark what I say," and Handy smiled. "Good heavens, Handy, old man!" exclaimed the Little 'Un tremulously, "you are not going to let that band loose on the unsuspecting inhabitants, are you?" "Such is my fell purpose," he replied. "Is there a police force there?" queried the comedian; "for if there be you can hand me my divvy right now. Tie the Gem up to the first rock we come to and put me ashore. No Newport for mine, thank you." "Say, what is the matter with all of you? Does the name of Newport faze you? Don't you know that human nature is the same the world over in all time and in all places, and that the venturesome fellow appeals to all classes—rich as well as poor? Let me tell you, boys, if you will stand by me in this deal I'll pull you through all right. Besides, the success of our Newport date—and in the height of the season, too—will be something to boast of when we get back to the Great White Way. It sounds big—some style about it, and, take it from me, boys, style is everything in our profesh just now. You may have no talent, and not be able to act even a little bit, but if you have style and cheek and put up a good front you can count on an engagement every time. That's the kind of stuff stars are made of now." Handy's matter-of-fact argument was sufficient. He carried his point. The company agreed to do Newport and take chances. It had previously been decided to shelve "Uncle Tom's Cabin." So that perplexing matter was settled. The important consideration, however, arose, what should they substitute. A variety of pieces were named, but no decision was reached. Handy's wonderful fertility of resource at length came to the rescue and brought forth, much to the amazement of all, "Humpty Dumpty." They had, it is true, no columbine, but a little thing like that did not trouble the irrepressible Handy. "Do not the annals of the American stage lay bare the fact," quoth he, "that on one occasion in Wallack's old theatre, when it was located downtown on Broadway, near Broome Street, in New York, during the run of John Brougham's brilliant burlesque, 'Pocahontas,' with the famous author himself in the cast as Powhattan, and Charles Walcot as Captain John Smith, the extravaganza was given for one night only without a Pocahontas. And the records say it was the most remarkable and amusing performance of its entire run." Plays with and without plots are frequently presented nowadays in many of our so-called first-class theatres, with players of no experience and little natural ability. The public accepts them because they are offered nothing better. But that's neither here nor there at present. In "Humpty Dumpty" they had a good standard name. Just old enough to be new. "It is true," Handy argued, "we have not the necessary stage equipment for a metropolitan production. The only thing we have, for that matter, is the name. That is enough for us, and we are going to do the best we can with it. Ordinary actors, together with all the necessary equipment of props and scenery, might be able to attempt a presentation of the famous pantomime, but it takes your strolling players, bred and brought up in the old stock school, to turn the trick without them." It was a lazy day on board the little vessel. There was no wind. The sun poured down his rays so fiercely that it was almost unbearable. It was a dead calm. All the sailing vessels within sight were motionless. Not a sound disturbed the monotony of the scene, save the distant beat of the paddles or propellers of an approaching or receding steamboat. Newport, the gay world of the summer metropolis of fashion, loomed up in the distance, looking as beautiful as an alliance of art with nature could make a favored location. This was the Mecca toward which those on board directed their eyes and thoughts. Evening came, and with it a refreshing breeze. Once more the Gem was under headway, and shortly after sundown the little vessel was safely in port, her anchor dropped, and the sails snugly furled. As soon as everything was made shipshape on board, Handy and a member of the company rowed ashore to see how the land lay from a stroller's point of view as well as to select a site for the tent. |
|
